


Sherlock and John's little headcanon book

by Amuse_me



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Can be expanded further, Complete-its, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Romance, Valentine's Day, from my instagram, headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuse_me/pseuds/Amuse_me
Summary: Here you shall find headcanons and snippets and brief epiphanies of what is the relationship between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.





	1. Rehab- Amy Winehouse

**Author's Note:**

> These are from my Instagram. I wrote them during my hiatus from Fanfiction.net. More will be added. the chapter titles are song recommendations.

Drug addict Shezza going on a blind date with John for money. The yard won't pay him until he gets clean. Spoilsports. . John's original date had cancelled and Sherlock offered to fill in for money.

"Oh, you're-"

"Only four years younger than you doctor, you are not a pervert."

" _Ah,_ "

 Sherlock ends up actually enjoying himself as John tells him about his time at the army, his sister, the rubbish therapist can't hide her notes and his bum leg. He'd already deduced all of the above but blind dates don't spout out such stuff do they? At least the woman who'd paid him said so. .

 After the date, a call is made to a private number owned by Mycroft Holmes.

 "I'd like to go to rehab."

 The pretty bloke never called back and John assumes that he's been jilted by omission.

And he's not gay. (Bisexual, most definitely)

Seven months go by. John still has the rubbish therapist, his dull apartment but Harry's getting her habits mended so that's nice.

 "A bit different from my day..."

"Hello, John."

" _Sherlock?_ "

"I never asked where exactly you were stationed. Afghanistan or Iraq?" 


	2. Ho Hey- The lumineers

Sherlock Holmes hated the hearts, he hated the valentines, he hated the decor (furious pink was a bit overdone) and he hated admirers.  
  
You see for a man whose sole focus has been the rugby captain the day of love had no significant meaning.  
  
What? Sherlock wrote an entire concerto for him! Must you really doubt us?  
  
Molly Hooper had finally left his constant perch to moon over Lestrade. How lovely.   
Irene however was not that easy to divert. She'd soaked up the gaudy event and was volunteering for the cupid with Mike Stamford.

  
"A letter for you gorgeous!" She purred as her manicured hands clutched over the envelope.  
  
Sherlock shook his head but Irene was sure it was for him. He inspected the envelope. The paper was not incredibly cheap so no practical joke, no hint of perfume but slight traces of deodorant (male), left handed (obvious), took biology (steady hand).  
  
A beat and then Sherlock practically ripped the envelope open.

  
"Roses are red,  
Violets are not,  
I really do like you,  
Care to spare me a thought?  
I know that you're clever,  
And you'll see what I mean,  
I'm right behind you,  
Only barely unseen."  
  
Everyone in the corridor swears they saw when Sherlock Holmes practically swooned into Captain John Watson's arms. Sherlock refuses to comment.

 


	3. This is Gospel- P!ATD

Sherlock is, was and has always been alone. His life consisted of helping out on cases (dull), playing the violin (repetitive).  
And of course, cocaine.  
  
He timed his doses, no one should see him high after all, he'll be banned from cases.  
  
It's Halloween and the afternoon sun filters through the gaps through the curtains. Sherlock is high, as is the norm of afternoons. He wants to indulge before the high becomes the dreaded low. One more injection...  
  
And suddenly he isn't high. His mind is painfully clear. He gets up from the floor and yanks the curtains open. It's nightfall.  
  
Cocaine never caused amnesia.  
"Captain John Watson at your service!"  
  
Sherlock couldn't help himself as the deductions flew from his mouth the second he saw that -fit- specimen of a man. He was wearing military fatigues and dog tags around his neck. War medic if the bandages poking out of his shirt pocket weren't obvious.  
  
"That... was amazing."  
"You really think so?" Sherlock was oddly trembling.  
"Yeah, you'll be going with me."

  
"Going where?"  
"Up top, take my hand."  
  
And that was when Sherlock realised that the man before him had a horribly infected gunshot wound. The bullet had gone straight through his subclavian artery and scapula. The man should be dead.  
  
And yet Sherlock grabbed the warm hand of the smiling Captain as they went. Up top.


	4. Chasing Pavements-Adele

 Prompt- John calling Sherlock a "freak" causing Sherlock to put his walls up around John

Okay but then John going all out to beg for forgiveness from Sherlock and Sherlock refusing to speak.  
John never complaining about buying groceries, allowing Sherlock to play the violin at odd hours and not saying anything when he puts the fourth nicotine patch on his arm.  
  
And Sherlock desperately wants to forgive him but he doesn't want to get hurt again. He eventually stops playing the violin, buys the milk and starts using too many patches again. Cases come and go. John doesn't accompany him. Nobody questions him but Lestrade, who is easily brushed off.  
  
Deductions fly faster than ever. Sentiment won't cloud his mind ever again. And yet Sherlock stays up all night composing, the notes only fitting in so perfectly with a certain ex army doctor.  
  
A month passes by. John has to take his cane out.  
  
"Sherlock I'm moving out."  
"Obvious,"  
"I'm sorry,"  
"What for?"  
  
A week later Lestrade calls to inform John that Sherlock came to a crime scene high and muttering about freaks.  
  
"Can we start over John?"  
"I don't know Sherlock, why don't you sleep the high off?"  
  
And then John is back. He's still limping, but they're back. A bit not good right now but John won't let the opportunity go waste.  
  
Sherlock asks for John to come with him to a crime scene.  
   
A week later, as John throws his cane away to tackle the murderer, Sherlock says it~  
  
"I forgive you John."  
  
John breaths a sigh of relief as he pins the criminal's arm down.  
They kiss slowly at first and then it's hands all over.  
  
Sherlock Holmes isn't a freak.  
John Watson is sorry.  
They're in love.


	5. Bleeding Out- Imagine dragons

They're gonna die. Their plan was clever but not enough. Moriarty has them and there's only so much time left till skyfall.  Sherlock is broken and bloody. And John is fine, (not quite).  
  
Sherlock rasps out-  
"There has to be something, JOHN! We'll get out of this and you'll be safe with Mary and the baby."  
  
"There's nothing left Sherlock."  
  
"The game is on we can't let this just happen!"  
  
"They killed them remember? Sherlock you need to stay here with me."  
  
Sherlock tries to remember what is happening. Moriarty, bomb, fifty seven minutes and John.  
John.  
  
"You know that- I"  
"Don't say it now Sherlock."  
  
"You're an idiot."

John sighs as they are another minute closer to their death. Sherlock's head is on his lap and his hair is matted with blood. The scene is grotesquely real. No magic tricks this time. Except...  
  
"Shoot me, John."  
"What?"  
"It's better that we end this now. He'll let you go. I'm the one he wants gone."  
"Okay,"  
  
John hands Sherlock his revolver. It was given to them only a few hours ago after Moriarty's men were through with Sherlock.  
  
"Me first then."  


**Laughter. A strange, carefree, out of control sound that came from hoarse throats followed by two gunshots. John, then Sherlock.**  
  



	6. Sexy Back- Justin Timberlake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a prompt/headcanon listing so feel free to expand these.

Ok but Stripper!Sherlock meeting Army! John and giving him a lap dance.  
  
Tight aubergine shirt, leather trousers and -ohmy- glitter.  
The base was loud enough to make John dizzy. The stripper closed his eyes as he flexed.   
The song almost reached it's end as a deep baritone reached his ears.  
  
"Afghanistan or Iraq?"


	7. Somebody that I used to know- Gotye

It wasn't the same anymore. 

  
Five years of married life and they'd lost the spark. Sherlock Holmes hadn't divorced the work after all.  
  
At first it was just Anderson. Then Donovan. And finally Lestrade remarking how Sherlock couldn't get enough of the cases.  
  
He wasn't just enthusiastic to see a murder. He was _gagging_ for it. A week without a case would drive him to a semi catatonic haze. And John took care of it. No, really. He fed Sherlock, bathed him, dressed and shaved him like a grotesquely real doll.  
  
They weren't having sex. Only a customary kiss in the mornings or after a case.  
  
This specific case took seven weeks to solve. Sherlock was far too jubilant to refuse John when the latter suggested that they go for a week away at the cottage in Sussex.  
  
Sussex was lovely. Sunny and airy with flowers and bees. There was a fireplace for when it got cold- all complete with an axe and timber stock.  
  
John was brought back to their honeymoon. Sherlock wouldn't leave John alone for a second- nuzzling, kissing and generally spending his energies on _mundane stuff_ ". Oh and the sex had been glorious!  
  
John sighs as he sinks into the comfortable sofa. Sherlock faces him lost in thought. He has that look in his eye. John had forgotten he could look at husband like that. With such... _ardour_.  
  
"What's on your mind?" John asked in that gravelly voice he knew brought Sherlock to his knees.

  
Sherlock stared at him, lips parted. His eyes were dancing now.  
  
"Our neighbour's family heirlooms were stolen. He's allowed me to check them out!".  
  
John didn't have the energy to dispose of the body but he carefully buried the axe. For now, he just wanted to sit still and remember.


	8. Hello- Lionel Riche

Sherlock is alone and deaf and very gay. He's been off the drugs for a year now and has taken to a better living.

Mycroft informs him of new technology that can get him complete hearing. Sherlock, a man deaf since the age of one, can't imagine a life with sound.

He solves crimes, reads lips and occasionally deigns to "talk" to others.An accident leads to Sherlock being hospitalised with an injury to the head. Mycroft takes the decision on his behalf to install the new technology.

Sounds are _chaotic_. Sherlock doesn't know what to do. A few hours into consciousness, he's finally been left alone. Sherlock gasps a bit and focuses on his breathing.

He'll get this thing in his head removed, he can't let it ruin is semblance of convention.

He needs to know how long he'll have to stay this time. Maybe he'll get off easy.

Suddenly the door opens with a creak. A man tentatively peeks his head inside.

Ex military. Medic judging by the way his eyes flew to the chart.

Frowning, at the wrong place then. Visiting younger sibling. Alcholic younger sibling who's left their wife.

Now military, where-Limp- he has a cane. He's stopped now and seems perfectly at ease. Psychosomatic- therapist. Traumatic injury.

"Hello, sorry I believe I'm in the wrong room..."

His voice was calm. Soothing like a gentle wave and yet with the force of command. He wanted to hear it again.

"Yes," He tried the words on his tongue, his voice was surprisingly- deep.

"This chart here days you're deaf- oh. OH. I'm being terribly rude aren't I?"

"No, it's... fine. Afghanistan or Iraq?"


	9. Scarborough Fair- Simon and Garfunkel version

The diagnosis came in when Sherlock couldn't deduce a honey thief in time. Alzheimer's was common for a man of seventy two.

John wasn't worried. They had a few years and he was nearing eighty. He'd love that man to death.

The memory loss started after what was nearly a year of almost normal life. Sherlock forgot the name of a whole set of poisons.

Slowly, it turned into becoming a blank slate every morning.

John still loved him.

For your see, Sherlock Holmes always managed to surprise John Watson.

He was not as devastating as he has been at thirty eight but age suited him well. There were cuts and scars and wrinkles and grey hair that told him a lot.

Every morning now, Sherlock would wake up at their cottage in Sussex, go to their garden where John would be flipping through albums and announce in his age pitched voice.

"You were a doctor. An army doctor. Any good?"

Or,

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

And occasionally,

"D'you wanna get dinner? I can tell a good Chinese by the bottom of the door handle."

And then there were days when Sherlock remembered the crinkly little man who shot a man for him in a few hours of moving in with him.

He remembered falling off rooftops, madmen, weddings and London. He remembered crimes and rooftop chases. He remembered.Those days were getting fewer and fewer. The headaches were getting worse.

What remained as a fact was this- John Watson loved his mad genius consulting detective. And Sherlock Holmes loved his brilliant brave blogger back.


End file.
